


Let me show you

by Ivartheboneme



Series: Ivar [11]
Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: Ableist Language, Death Threats, Drinking, Explicit Language, F/M, Face Slapping, Hate Sex, Like disabled people being showed as animals on a circus, Loss of Virginity, Non-Con Bondage, Oral Sex, Slavery, Some heavily implied ableism, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, dubcon, implied sexual slavery, teaching Ivar a thing or two
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-11
Updated: 2017-06-14
Packaged: 2018-11-12 15:34:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11164839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ivartheboneme/pseuds/Ivartheboneme
Summary: I got a tumblr request: Ivar and his brothers are sold as slaves and a woman buys them. Things end up smutty between Ivar and their buyer. Hope you'll like it :)Please note that for all of my works that have sexual content, all relevant characters are at least 18 years old. If they are not yet 18 in canon, I age them up.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> In bold = Ivar and his brothers can't understand  
> In cursive = Old Norse, only Ivar and his brothers understand  
> Regular = Saxon, both the Ragnarssons and the women understand

Ivar keeps his gaze firmly planted on one of the houses in front of them. They have been herded from the boats and now he and his brothers are lined up on a small dais, along with some of their warriors and others that must have been caught by the bald slaver. The sun is scorching hot and it annoys him to no end that he can't reach a hand up and wipe away the sweat. Their captor comes waddling towards the front right corner of the dais where Ivar is seated next to Ubbe. He is closely followed by two women, so similar in appearance that they must be related. The older one of them glances over the captured princes, curiosity in her eyes. She asks the slaver something.

 

” **And these are?”**

 

” **Northmen, my lady. Brothers, from what I can gather.”** The bald man answers. Even though Ivar can't understand the words he understands that the vile man is proud of having captured a group of the feared Northmen. Ivar notices that the younger woman is staring and he gives up an annoyed huff while turning his gaze away. The bald man reaches out and grabs Ubbe's wrist, raising his arm for the woman to inspect it.

 

” **Strong and no doubt skilled workers. The blonde one is quite musically gifted as well.”** Ivar looks straight ahead in an attempt of ignoring the younger woman's stare. She asks the slaver something.

 

” **What is wrong with him?”** Out of the corner of his eye he can see her pointing at him. The bald man squirms a little, clearing his throat before he answers. It seems as if the slaver is uncomfortable admitting that he's carrying flawed goods.

 

” **His legs, they are twisted. Normally, I wouldn't sell such goods but I heard that lord Ren is looking for a new addition to his...menagerie.”** Ivar steals a glance, curious to see their reaction to whatever the slaver told them about him.The younger woman leans in to whisper something in the older one's ear. Eventually the older one nods.

 

” **As you wish, niece.”** She turns to the slaver **”We'll take the brothers; including the cripple.”** The bald man looks very satisfied until those last few words. His jaws fall open and he flicks his gaze back and forth between Ivar and the two women. Ivar immediately tenses and Ubbe takes a step closer to him, sensing the same vague threat as his younger brother. The bald man seems to be about to protest but the older woman presses a pouch in his hand. He takes one quick glance inside it and the look of hesitance turns into a sickening smile. He turns and yells at the young man that seems to be his helper.

 

” **Boy! Help the lady with her merchandise.”**

 

 

Ivar is awakened by someone shaking him violently and snarling in his face.

“ **Get up.”** One of the house guards, a large and brutish man, is leaning down over him. Every fucking morning, Ivar thinks to himself.

“ _I've seen piles of horse shit more clever than you.”_ He spits back. The large man grunts something incoherent and turns to wake up the others as well. Ivar sits up and begins to rub his legs that are stiff from sleeping on the floor. It has been five days since they were bought by the two women, aunt and niece he has learned, and everyday his brothers have been put to work in or around the villa. While their place seems to be clear, Ivar's is still very vague. Some days he will just sit at the large table in the kitchen and watch as other slaves prepare food. Though most of the time he answers the endless questions from the lady's niece. What is it like where you come from? Are you and your brothers important there? Why are you a cripple? It is infuriating. The brothers are herded to the bottom floor, Ivar clinging to Ubbe's back, and the dining room. The younger girl is sitting at the head of the table; a cup of wine already in her hand. They line up next to the table and wait for further instruction.

“My lady aunt is gone for the day and she has put me in charge.” The girl says with a wide smile.

“You are to work in our garden today. Get rid of the tares, water the plants, whatever else needs to be done.” Just as the men are about to leave she grabs Hvitserk's arm and makes him turn back to face her.

“And you; don't eat all of the berries this time.” She chides playfully but Ivar can see the steel in her eyes. Hvitserk doesn't even blush at being reprimanded, he only bows his head down in a poor attempt to hide his grin before heading out through the kitchen door.

” _He gets to sit on his ass all day._ _It's not fair.”_ Ivar hears Sigurd mutter before the door slams shut behind them as they set out to complete their tasks. As soon as they're gone she beckons for Ivar to come closer. He takes his time heaving himself into the chair, knowing that the first question will come as soon as he's settled down. She clutches both hands around the cup and tilts her head to the side.

“Why don't you like your brothers?” As the interrogation continues she downs several cups more of the wine. It doesn't take long for her to become visibly affected. She begins to quiet down, taking more and more time between each question. Eventually, she seems to stop all together and Ivar sighs in relief; his ears feel sore. That's when she snaps her head back up to look at him with glossy eyes.

”Does your cock work?” Ivar goes still, every nervous and annoyed twitch he has displayed disappears as she unknowingly remembers him of that shameful night back in Kattegatt. He sets his features into a scowl before looking up and facing her. She's not put off by his angry look; the girl actually giggles at him.

”Come now, you didn't think we bought a cripple to do physical labour now did you?” Ivar grits his teeth and refuses to respond. She pouts at him then, taking on a look similar to that of a pup begging for scraps at the table.

”Answer me; does it work?” With humiliation burning through him, Ivar lowers his gaze and shakes his head. He knows that this will be his end; he can't work like his brothers and he has never cooked a meal in his life. They will sell him to that lord Ren and then he will be gawked at like some exotic beast. He waits for her to laugh at him but it never comes. Instead, she carelessly waves a hand through the air.

”Oh well, not to worry. There are other parts of you that can come in handy.” What now? Ivar begins to form a question but she interrupts him.

”Are you sure?” His eyes harden at her stupid question; was she so determined to humiliate him? He raises his voice but isn't quite able to hide the trembling.

”I've tried once and it didn't...”

”Once?!” She interrupts him ”Oh sweet boy, that's not nearly enough.” While he tries to wrap his mind around what she's saying, she waves her hand again.

”And even if it doesn't work, you have such lovely fingers.” Ivar furrows his brow. She must see the confusion she's causing him because her eyes widen and she tilts her head again.

”Sweet boy, who taught you about these things?”

”Who would bother talking to a cripple about fucking?” He spits back, cheeks burning red. She doesn't miss a beat when answering.

“I would. Even if he was only half as pretty as you.”

 

Somehow, he has ended up shirtless in her bed and he watches with wide eyes as she slips out of her dress. When she joins him under the thin cover he is overcome by eagerness and moves to pin her under him. The girl tuts at him and swats his hands away.

“Oh no, you have to take care of me first. Then we'll see what I can do for you.” Before he can protest she takes his hand and guides it between her legs, making him quiet down. At first she just drags his fingers in small circles around her opening to let him feel the gathering wetness. Then she brings his hand further up, very carefully letting his digits brush over a small bud. She squirms a little and Ivar lifts his head to give her a questioning look.

”Do you know what this is?” She asks. Ivar bites his lips before casting his gaze down again.

”No.” He admits.

”Let me show you then.” She releases his hand and Ivar lets it rest on her thigh. He pulls at the cover to see better and watches with wide eyes as she slips her own hand there.

”This - this feels good.” She moans and Ivar scoots even further down, leaning in so close that she must be able to feel his breath on her thigh. He continues to watch as if in a trance as she slides her fingers up and down her flesh, occasionally returning to that small bud that has her writhing. Ivar is awakened from his dreamlike state when she reaches for his hand.

“Now you.” She purrs. A few deep breaths to calm himself and then he sets to work. A moan escapes from between his lips as he notices that she's even wetter now and he can't resist the urge to briefly retract his hand to lick her juices from his fingertips. She makes some strange noise and Ivar lifts his head to see her staring at him with pupils blown wide. On instinct he sticks his fingers deeper inside his mouth, swirling his tongue around them and humming softly. His head is suddenly forced backwards as she tugs at his hair.

“Stop teasing me, slave.” She snarls. A darkness falls over Ivar's features at the sound of being called slave. He will make her pay for it one day but right now there are other matters to attend to. The darkness is forced back into hiding and Ivar suddenly remembers what he saw in the forest back home.

”My mouth; I can use that too, right?”

”Yes, but no teeth. I'll have you whipped for that.” She pulls a little more on his hair to emphasize her words. Ivar smirks a little to himself before diving back between her thighs. He tries different ways of using both his fingers and his mouth; discovering that letting his breath fan over her folds makes her gasp, and that sucking on that strange little bud makes her press her sex harder against him. However, the best result comes when he has worked two fingers inside of her and lets them curl as if beckoning for someone while simultaneously working her bud with the thumb of his other hand. She begs then, begs for him to keep going and so he does because it is one of the most satisfying things he's ever heard. Soon, she crumbles under his rough hands and Ivar lets out a pleased growl as she moans loudly. She nudges at him to move and he lies on his side, watching intently as she calms her breathing. After a short moment of respite she sits up and slides a hand under the cover to tug at Ivar's trousers. He hesitates for a second, still not sure about showing his twisted legs and flaccid cock. But he has pleased her, he has made her beg for more of his touch and it has planted a seed of hope in him; so he undresses. She finds his length and begins stroking it and Ivar barely dares to move. The progress is slow but it is happening and he relaxes a little. Just as he has settled more comfortably against the pillows, she pushes the cover to the side and positions herself between his legs. Her warm, wet mouth invites him in and Ivar clutches at the bedlinen to calm himself. He throws his head back when she adds her tongue; it seems to find every perfect spot to drag against. She releases his cock with a pop and guides his own hand there to feel at it. Her eyes glitter as she looks up at him.

“Do you still think it doesn't work?” She asks.

The realization hits Ivar; he can fuck her. And he will. He grabs a fistful of her hair and yanks her away from his cock, ready to push her onto her back and ravage her. She raises her hand and, without warning, slaps him. She clicks her tongue in disapproval while he stares at her.

“For a slave you're not very good at taking orders.” Ivar is about to snap that he's a prince, that he outranks her and she should take his cock like a good little bitch; her palm collides with his cheek again, even harder this time. Ivar's entire body tilts to the side, not used to such treatment. While he's still trying to recover from the shock of having been struck twice, and by a girl, she moves quickly on top of him to work with something at the headboard. Something brushes against his arms. He recovers and tries to reach for her again; only to find that he can't. There's something holding him back. Ivar turns his head to inspect his wrists and he curses out loud when he sees why he can't grab her; the little bitch tied him up.

“ _Cunt! I will have your fucking head for this.”_ She pays no mind to the long string of curse words leaving his mouth, just smiles sweetly and sinks down on his cock. Moans interspersed with just about every insult he can think of continues to flow from between his lips as she grinds against him and before long he responds to her movements, bucking his hips to meet them. He wants to wrap a hand around her throat and squeeze until she goes limp but he also want her to move with him like this forever. She keeps one hand on his shoulder and the other one disappears between their sweaty bodies. A few thrusts later she twitches on top of him and makes the same pleased noise as when he used his fingers on her. She both feels and looks wonderful on top of him and Ivar can't hold it back any longer; with an angry grunt he spills his seed. She slowly moves away from him and lies down on her back. Ivar stares at her in disbelief, chest heaving; will she leave him tied to the bed?

“Untie me.” He demands. She opens her eyes and glances at him.

“Ask nicely.” Ivar forces himself not to snap at her.

“Please, my lady, untie me. My arms are hurting.” He says in the most submissive tone he can muster up. She reaches for the knots and he readies himself to lunge at her and strangle her. When there is only one knot left, she pauses and cups his face in her hands. She presses her mouth to his, lingering there and nipping at his bottom lip. Ivar gasps into her mouth and reciprocates the pressure; forgetting about his plans to overpower her. When she pulls away he is left feeling dizzy and he barely reacts as she removes the restraints. He slides further down into the bed, positioning on his side next to her.

“Your aunt won't have me whipped for fucking her precious niece?” She laughs as if he just said something amusing.

“She's in no position to judge; she's fucking at least two of your brothers already and some of the other slaves. I told her I want someone to play with too; she has the money.” Another plan begins to take form in Ivar's head; one that will be much more fun than just killing her.

“So you picked me? You're as daft as you look, woman.” She tries to slap him then but this time he manages to deflect it.

“It's not time for lunch quite yet. Lie down and rest with me for a while.” She murmurs. Ivar silently agrees by wrapping an arm around her waist and resting his head on one of the many pillows. She soon falls asleep but Ivar stays awake, thinking about how he will make her into his slave.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Please keep in mind that the girl doesn't start out consenting to the specific acts that Ivar is dead set on going though with but ends up enjoying it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NEW TAGS: Referenced / implied sex party, rough smut, choking, spitting, rough oral sex, some more master / slave dynamics

Ivar sits in the kitchen, arms crossed over his chest and a scowl on his face as he listens to the sounds of the ongoing feast. His brothers have been sent to the dining room under the guise that they are to help serve the lady and her guests. The girl has told him what the real reason is.

”All of my aunt's guests tonight are women and your brothers are handsome men; they will do some serving and then they will be observed. As the wine flows, things are likely to...escalate.” The aunt had apparently intended for Ivar to join his brothers at first, but her niece had refused to share him; so he sits there, listening and waiting while the girl no doubt gropes at his brothers. He tries to tell himself that it doesn't matter, that he will get to punish her soon anyway.

 

The servants inside the kitchen are doing what they can to ignore Ivar but it is obvious that they are frightened by him like all the other servants. His mood is even worse now than at the beginning of the evening and he decides to try and find some comfort in imagining what he will do to her once given the opportunity. He can see it clearly; his hand wrapped around her throat and endless tears running down her cheeks. Ivar reaches a hand down to adjust himself through the trousers, having accepted that the infuriating little woman has this effect on him. He would lick the tears from those perfect cheeks and then push inside her, taking her whatever way he wanted. His lips begin to curl, a moan on the verge of escaping. The kitchen door slams open, interrupting his dream. It's her. The girl snaps her fingers to call for the servants' attention then gestures at the back door to make them leave. They scurry out into the garden and she immediately turns to sweep her eyes over Ivar, lips breaking into a smirk as she sees his bulge.

“I see that you have been eagerly waiting for my arrival.” Ivar lifts a finger to his bottom lip and taps it.

”It's all smeared.” He informs her. She rolls her eyes.

”Ah, yes. Your brother got carried away; I told him his hair was soft and he took it as an invitation to kiss me.” Ivar sneers; he doesn't need to ask which brother. She picks up a napkin and begins to wipe the smeared colour from around her mouth. Ivar relaxes a little, glad to see the signs of Hvitserk's greedy mouth disappear.

“Is it all gone?” Ivar studies her face for a long moment before nodding.

“Good.” The girl reaches for the hem of her skirt and begins to ruck it up. By the time her hands disappear under it to find her underwear Ivar's eyes have darkened with lust and he adjusts his length again. The undergarments land on the floor and Ivar pushes his chair backwards so that she can sit on his lap. Instead, she leans back against the table in front of him and proceeds to push herself to sitting on top of it. She places her legs on each side of him and wraps them over the armrests. Ivar tilts his head to look at the girl.

“You're not going to tie me to the chair this time?” She shakes her head.

“No, I want your hands free.” She motions for him to come closer and he moves to the edge of his seat, beginning to run a hand up the inside of her naked leg.

“Besides, you've been such a good little slave the last few times; I've barely had to slap you.” It takes all of his will power not to lunge out of the chair and strangle her then. Not yet, he thinks to himself. To hide his anger, he digs his fingers into her hips and pulls her closer then ducks his head down between her thighs. She claws at his scalp while he works at her sensitive flesh expertly. When he notices the way she's beginning to stiffen on top of the table he wraps an arm around her waist and pulls her even closer, takes her bud between his lips and sucks on it until she screeches out loud. Ivar straightens his back and begins to stroke his bulge while waiting for her to settle down. She slides onto the floor, kneeling in front of him and swats his hands away so that she can unlace his trousers. Her lips wrap around his freed length and she slowly lets him inside, sucking and licking until he growls and shudders his release into her mouth. She doesn't waste a second; immediately pulling back and spitting his seed out on the floor. While Ivar fumbles with putting his cock back inside his trousers, the girl pulls her skirt back down and tries to smooth it as best she can. She walks to the back door through which the other servants had disappeared and calls out for the girls.

“We've made a mess on the floor; clean it up and get back to making the dessert.” With that, she returns to the feast. An hour or so later, another servant girl enters the kitchen.

“The young lady says that you can return to the slaves' quarters now.”

 

 

Someone is settling down next to him on the thin covers. Ivar turns, ready to snarl at whoever it is that has woken him from his delicious dreams. It is her. Her eyes are glossy from drinking and she bites her lip in the same way that she always does when she is particularly eager to get him naked. He settles on his back, inviting her to climb on top of him which she eagerly does. Her kisses are sloppy but he allows her to continue so as to make her think that she will be in control this time too. She slides her hands down to his shoulders, moaning as she feels the strength of them. Ivar is tired of waiting. In one swift motion he flips them over. She lets out a groan as the back of her head hits the floor. Ivar uses one hand to pin her writs above her head and with the other he reaches for his discarded tunic. A rush of power floods through his body as he ties her wrists together and secures them to one of the iron rings in the floor that are used to trap slaves that are prone to make escape attempts. She's still somewhat shocked and doesn't seem to understand what is happening; she will soon enough. Ivar takes a moment to appreciate the sight. She's on her back, arms forced over her head, mouth formed into a silent question and chest heaving. It's perfect; the feast downstairs is still demanding everyone's attention and so no one will hear her scream. He has her all for himself and he decides that he wants to see more. Ivar grabs on to the neckline of her dress and this finally sparks a reaction from her.

“Don't you dare, slave. I will have you whipped until there is nothing left of your back.” She snarls. Ivar chuckles at her.

“Hush now, little bitch.” The dress tears easily in his hands, revealing her breasts and stomach. She curses in her language and Ivar continues ripping at the fabric until the dress is completely split in two. He lets his hands slide over her stomach and chest, taking his time to explore every inch that she's been denying him. She continues to utter profanities but he doesn't listen to any of it; tugging at her nipples and observing the way they turn into hardened beads is much too fun to be bothered by her breathless curses. His hands wander further down to feel at her waist instead and, out of curiosity, he lowers his head to her breast and takes as much as he can in his mouth. She squirms under him and he bites down as a way of warning her to keep still. As his teeth sink into the soft mound she twitches and makes a strange noise. Ivar looks up at her to see that she is biting her lip again and that her eyes are growing darker by the second; these signs of pleasure on her part angers him and he drags himself further up her body. Ivar snarls like a wild animal, letting one hand wrap around her throat and press down on it while the other digs into her hip. He stares into her eyes, licking his lips as he sees tears start to form there. When the first drop makes its way down her cheek he dives down and laps it up before lifting his head back up so that he can see her properly for the next part. He relaxes his grip on her throat again, watching her face closely as she draws in a shaky breath through parted lips. He waits for the girl to steady her voice enough to be able to stutter out some plea for mercy with tears running down her cheeks. Soon, she moves her mouth as if to speak and Ivar leans in, a predatory grin spreading over his face. She moans loudly. Ivar's eyes widen in surprise as he feels her hips buck up to meet his. He hurries to compose himself and narrow his eyes again.

”You are enjoying it.” He observes.

”Yes.” She breathes. Ivar chews on his bottom lip while mulling over this turn of events. Finally, he moves his hand to lock around her chin and presses his thumb between her jaws to pry them apart.

”Then clearly I'm not being harsh enough.” She tries to say something but freezes as he curls his lips and spits into her open mouth. Ivar clamps his hand over it and smirks as he feels the movements meaning that she's swallowing it.

“Look at that; you can swallow. I'll make sure that you get to use that skill.” Her eyes widen at those words and he thinks he can hear the smallest of whimpers from underneath his large hand. He strips himself of the trousers, then frees her from the ring but leaves her arms tied together. Ivar turns on his side, situating himself so that his chest is level with her face. He places his hand on each of her shoulders and pushes down. She understands what he wants and begins to squirm to get into position quicker. Once she is level with his erection, he grabs a fistful of hair from the back of her head and growls a command.

“Take all of it.” She obeys, parting her lips and taking him until he hits the back of her throat. The warmth and wetness makes Ivar throw his head back and groan. She tries to stay in control, sliding back a bit and swirling her tongue around it. Ivar tssks at her and she freezes as he tightens his grip at the back of her head. That is all the warning she gets before he starts snapping his hips, pushing as far as he can with every stroke. Ivar feels the way the rest of her body moves awkwardly as if it's compensating for the head being so firmly kept in place. When he reaches his end he pushes her head down enough for him to hear her sputter around the twitching member and he grunts into the empty room. Ivar lets her move away from his cock but wastes no time in grasping her under the arms instead and dragging her upwards to face him. The sight of his seed slowly trickling from the corner of her mouth makes him chuckle darkly; she still has it, waiting for his orders of what to do with it. He taps her nose and she squirms a little, giving up muffled noises that seem to be out of both distress and pleasure.

“Did I not say you would get to use your skill? Swallow.” Ivar drags his fingertips down her throat, feeling the way it moves as she obeys him. She takes an initiative of her own, opening her mouth to show him that everything is gone. He drags his knuckles down her cheek then, making her eyelids flutter.

“What a good little bitch. If you handle the next part this well, I might even let you finish.” The girl only bows her head in response. She looks so fragile like this and in a moment of softness, Ivar allows her to stay pressed against his chest for a while while she recovers from the rather rough treatment of her mouth and throat. Soon he feels his own desire grow again and he grabs the girl, making her turn on her stomach; an even easier task now that she's helping. Ivar drags himself on top of her, taking his time to enjoy the feeling of his cock dragging over the skin of her legs. Once settled over her, he nestles his length between her buttocks and makes a few tentative thrusts with his now half-erect cock. He buries his fingers in her hair again and forces her head up from the floor, his breath fanning against her neck as he issues a new order.

“Tell me that you are my slave.” He can almost see the confusion on her hidden face but he doesn't let it deter him. When she takes too long to answer, he pulls her head even further up from the floor.

“Did I fuck your mouth so hard that you lost the ability to speak, hmm?” She shakes her head then, and he can hear the way her breaths are growing heavier. Her voice trembles as she speaks up.

“I am your slave, Ivar.” He snarls in warning and wraps his free hand around her throat.

“Not Ivar.” He growls while once again denying her air. This time he is quicker to relax his grip, eager to hear her correct herself. Ivar rephrases the question.

“Who am I to you?” This time the answer comes immediately.

“You are my master.” She rasps. Ivar moans then and presses closer to her warm body, the sound of her calling him master nearly enough to make him spill again. He leans down to speak directly into her ear.

“Your cunt is about to be blessed by your master's cock, little slave.” She whimpers in response. He releases his grip on her hair and reaches down to push her legs further apart, letting his fingers probe at the sensitive flesh and finding her soaking wet; it's impossible to wait any longer. Holding on to her shoulder with one hand he uses the other to guide himself to her opening. The girl yelps as Ivar pushes his entire length inside at once. He sets a gruelling pace, loving the sound of skin slapping against skin every time his hips meets her ass. Long, rough fingers are digging into her shoulders and she's bound to bear his marks tomorrow. As Ivar nears his end he growls at her again.

“I want to feel you clench around my cock; be a good slave and cum for your master.” She sucks in a shallow breath and Ivar keeps his pace up until he feels her tense under him. She moans as her walls tighten around him and Ivar forces himself to keep going until she has ridden out the waves of her orgasm. He slams his fists into the ground and begins to thrust even more savagely, pushing her against the floor with each stroke. A few seconds later he roars while shuddering his release into her warm cunt. Once satisfied that every drop of him is inside her he rolls to the side, leaving her tied up as she did to him their first time. She doesn't speak, chest still heaving and covered in a layer of sweat as she holds her hands out for him to untie the knots. Ivar shakes his head, chuckling when he sees the confused expression on her face.

“I'm not done with you, slave.”

 


End file.
